Beauty for Ashes
by journey1899
Summary: The Villaflores twins move to New York to study music, but when tragedy strikes, they're forced to make a living elsewhere.


"An' we took the punkin' an' we started runnin'. We ran all the way to the fence at the brickyard, and my dadda picked me up and lifted me up I slid down an' he threw the punkin' over an' I caught it, but just barely. It almost smashed!" The little boy's soft brown eyes had grown larger and larger as he told the tale, and Joya laughed along with his mother, who was sitting with her arm around the little guy.

"So what happened to your dadda? And the mean, ugly dog?" Joya prodded, trying to match the boy's mischievious grin.

"Oh, my dadda - he's real strong an' real fast - an he just jumped over that fence. But he told me to keep runnin', cause dogs can jump, too, so we ran. An' that night we had dee-licious punkin' pie, right, Momma?"

The twenty-something mother simply nodded, while politely trying to stifle her laughter. Joya, on the other hand, let it out. 

"What a wonderful storyteller you are, Stephen!" The four-year-old blushed, or at least, Joya would have sworn he did. Which only made her smile more. 

"Excuse us," the mother, who had previously introduced herself as Mrs. Gregory Andrews, asked. "We need to find your dadda," she said to Stephen. He nodded and proceeded to rise up from the small table. Joya took that as a cue to leave. She gathered her small black satin purse and slid out of the booth, giving a glance to the land that was storming by outside the train window.

Walking carefully down the hallways, stepping aside for all passengers, male and female alike, she made it to her private compartment. She unlocked the sliding door with a long skeleton key and stepped inside, greeted by the ever-beautiful strains of her brother's viola. She set her purse on the end table beside 'her' bench, and pulled her long black hair down from its restraining tie, letting it fall in large, loose curls over and far past her shoulders. Joya sat down across from him, closed her eyes, and let the 'maestro', as she lovingly called him, play on and on. 

Almost a full half hour went by with David bowing melodies of his own and his favorite pieces, making one beautiful medley out of them. Joya's lips stayed upturned in ecstasy, relaxing her and putting her mind at ease. And then he stopped.

"So, where have you been this afternoon?" he asked in his gentle voice, putting his viola in its case.

"I met a boy-" she started, and then caught the look of complete horror on David's face.

"Joiyan!" that was his name for her when he was upset. "Father told you-"

"Listen to the whole story, James," she said quietly. "I met a boy. He is four years old. His name is Stephen," slowly James calmed, taking several deep breaths. "He has such a wonderful family! His mother - well, she's beautiful! She has this sleek brown hair, a dark complexion, wonderful green eyes. She's so full of joy, and her husband, he seems just as wonderful!"

James listened to his sister go on, amused. She always spoke of the beauty around her, yet never paused to think of her own beauty. And she was beautiful. She could never think of herself as that, though, he knew. She was half-Filipino. 'And no man wants a half-bred.' At least, that's what she'd always said. That's what she'd heard all of her young life, by the ministers, the school teachers, the neighbors, even her mother's friends. It was easier for him, he was a man, after all. He had some respect because of that one unchangeable fact. 

Suddenly, the train jerked somewhat violently, throwing the two siblings into their seats and out again. James's viola almost flew across the Pullman car, but he grabbed in the nick of time. Joya caught herself between the table in front and the luggage rack above, steadying herself. 

Her eyes perked to a brighter shade of caramel as the train inched forward. "We're there, James! We're in Jersey City!"

He smiled at his sister's excitement. "We've probably been in New Jersey for quite a long time," he said. Then he realized what a grump he must have sounded like, and tried to soften it with, "I can't wait to see New York City."

The pair pulled their onboard belongings together, and waited for the trainsman to knock, allowing them to leave. Joya smoothed out her blue-gray dress and straightened the lace in her blouse which had been disheveled during her on-train excursions. She put on the fine matching hat, and tucked her long hair up into it, revealing a carefully-designed neck. James checked the polish on his shoes, then pulled a comb out of his long black traveling coat's pocket, smoothing out any cowlicks that had managed to grow during the day. They both were anticipating the welcoming party which had been promised, and knew that first impressions were of high importance. Finally, the knock came, and they both rose. Two young men came to carry the twins' luggage out, and one older gentleman offered Joya his arm. She took it as she'd been taught for the catillions back in Charleston, and allowed him to escort her through the hallways and down the steps, which she took with gingered care. "How dreadful it would be to trip while coming off the train, and twist an ankle!" she kept thinking to herself.

Setting foot on the platform, Joya gave her escort a gracious smile and and nod, then was joined by James. Their baggage was pulled out on a movable rack with great care, James overseeing the process. Joya surveyed the crowd carefully, hoping to be able to find their contact: one Miss Lola Hyatt. She inhaled deeply - struck by such strange smells of the city. She'd left the magnolias, honeysuckle and overwhelming sunshine and traded it for the intense smell of thousands of people, horses and dirt. Momentarily she questioned this gigantic move, but was reassured with the thought of attending the finest music conservatory in the United States. 

"Sweet Joya?" James touched her elbow, which gave her a start. She turned an elegant head to her brother, and raised an eyebrow. "Do you want your cello in the back of the carriage when it arrives, or would you rather it in below?"

"In the back, if it will at all fit," she said. Distractedly, she looked about, "James? Where is Miss Hyatt? I'm curious to see if she'll know us from our performance in Boston..."

"I'm not quite sure, Joya. I'd think she'd know us - Father said she'd been to two consecutive nights. We haven't changed much in seven months," he said with a smile. Then, to the attendant, "Yes, please put the violins on the hanging rack...Oh, yes. That's perfect."

Joya turned her attention to her brother's directions, but just as she was to comment on the careful placing of her brother's guitar, an older-looking girl glided up next to her. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a fancy braid, and her crisp dark red dress hung perfectly off her tall frame. She had a air of carefulness about her, and a smile that could charm anyone. Joya returned the smile, and looked quickly over at James, who was hanging a satin bag of bows on the cart. 

She turned immediately back to the girl and asked, "Are you with Miss Hyatt?"

The girl looked slightly confused. "No, I'm sorry. I was just going ask if you'd like to buy a paper."

"A...?" Joya's eyes narrowed, unsure of what was being asked of her. She focused on the stack of papers underneath the girl's left arm. Ah! A newspaper...this girl was selling newspapers? "Um...yes," she decided. "I'll take a newspaper." 

"It's a penny," prompted the girl. As Joya reached into her money pouch discreetly, the girl looked her over. "Excuse me, Miss?"

"Yes?" Joya pulled out a penny and handed it to the girl, who in exchange gave a paper.

"Where are you from?"

"South Carolina."

"Well, welcome to Jersey," the girl greeted. "I'm Aspen. I hope the city finds you well."

"Why, thank you," Joya was taken by the girl's kindness. "James?" she asked, turning back to her brother. When she'd gotten his attention, she handed him the newspaper. 

"Oh, where did you get that, Miss Villaflores?" a woman's voice asked. Joya looked up to see Miss Hyatt, a woman in her fifties, wearing a strikinly full cream-colored dress. Her red-going-white hair curled into a million ringlets falling from the hat that sat precariously on the very top of her head. "Well? Where did you get that paper?"

"Hello, Miss Hyatt," Joya smiled. "I bought it from a girl...she was just here..."

"Oh, dear child!" the woman sounded exasperated. She placed an aging arm around Joya's shoulders and shook her head. "Never buy anything from the streetrats. They're no good, and they will take you for everything you've got." She looked into Joya's light, naive eyes and sent her a grave, non-verbal admonshing. "There are lots of children or adults who pretend they're children, even, who just want to take your valuables. A lady of your monetary stature needs not worry about things like pickpockets, so just keep your purse to your person and all will be fine. Now! Mason!" she called to the carriage driver. "Hurry it up; let's get these beautiful children out of this circus train station and back up to the Conservatory."

James offered his hand to his sister as she climbed up into one of the largest black carriages she'd ever seen, and Joya allowed herself to become alive with the excitement of this new adventure called New York. The horses pulled out of Jefferson Station and began the trek to the Island of Manhattan.

  



End file.
